fall short
by pharsik
Summary: Sadik is coming to a realization of his apparent missing love life, and makes a move to stop waiting for it. People, not countries/AU/IRL.


Sadik stared forward with blank eyes, looking lost at a disgustingly cluttered coffee table. To his right, a blonde companion sat, seemingly in euphoria over nothing at all.

It irritated him to no end.

"How the _fuck _are you never miserable?" The Turk demanded through gritted teeth, head turning violently enough to earn a start from his company. A start, and a horrendously un-cute tilt of the head.

And so, he raised his voice. "Well?"

_Woof!_

Obviously, the dog didn't respond well to be questioned.

Dragging himself to his feet with a weary sigh, Sadik turned to give a look of contempt towards his canine "companion", before removing himself from the beast's strangely jovial aura.

In any case, it would be that if the Turk couldn't be happy, no one else could. Unfortunately it had come to Sadik's attention that the dog's mood couldn't be changed without the denial of pets and treats. A simple task, but he couldn't risk not having the golden retriever completely and utterly infatuated with him, should it's (_his_, and _he _has a name you know!) owner find out.

Thus, Sadik's only option was to retreat, tail between his legs.

Bare feet surprisingly quiet against the cold tile that made up his apartment's kitchen floor, the Turk dared to glance at the bright neon time display, blinking on the oven. It was ten o' clock when he had gone to his terribly humble living area, only to have his moping interrupted by a certain hairy, smelly, bored creature. That creature was not his very current duplicate, for anyone's information.

Staring at the digital clock more intently, the Turk squinted his eyes in disbelieving scrutiny. It read ten o' clock.

A horrible time for the working insomniac. Not that the working part really bothered him; if Sadik had the option of leaving and doing fuck all into the wee hours of the morning, he would've long since left his canine housemate to rip apart his furniture and leave clots of blonde fur strewn across the house. Much to the Turk's chagrin, his leaving was all a matter of who to leave with.

A measly two people were in his willing-to-go-out-stupidly-late-and-likely-get-wasted circle, one of which had left to Europe for three weeks with nothing but a weak explanation and a dumb dog, and the other had fallen asleep hours ago, was his boss, and had sworn to never do such actions with the Turk again. Though the latter excuse could be ignored, taking into consideration the past "never doing that again" promises. Sadik was proud to say him and his friend had kissed more than once before, even if alcohol was involved in either case.

Nevertheless, Sadik was left without an option and thusly had to opt for the unavailable choices.

Cramming a hand down his own never-ending pocket the Turk retrieved his clunky excuse for a cellphone, plucking a piece of lint from between a crevice of the contraption. Upon flipping the top up to see the screen, an almost nostalgic box stating "No new messages." met his eyes.

Contacts Gupta Muhammed Hassan New message

To: Gupta Muhammed Hassan

From: Sadik Adnan

sup?

Less than a minute went by and Sadik was grinning crookedly as his phone shook erratically on the table.

New message from: Gupta Muhammed Hassan

Re: sup?

got o sleep

not tired. Sup?

shutting off my phone

come to my place!

At that, he stopped paying attention to his cellphone. Either of the Mediterranean men were well versed in this game of debate. Fortunately for Sadik there was no debating on his end, just the knowledge that his friend was without question laying in bed with a rueful expression, eyes locked on his own equally antique cellular device. It was just a matter of whether he would give in to the Turk's rather lacking plea, or the comfort and warmth of his bed.

With a clock in direct vision, Sadik began a countdown. He would give the Egyptian fifteen minutes, and if he hadn't shown up by then, Sadik would give up.

Only momentarily, the Turk was forming a grin at the sound of a car door slamming shut outside his apartment. Upon waiting, he realized after much time it was not who he had anticipated to arrive. By the ten minute count Sadik was the image of someone going through a withdrawal. He flipped the top of his cellphone up and down to the time of his oven's flashing, digital clock, staring at the scratched wood grain of his table with a surprising interest. Ten twenty two – blink – ten twenty two – blink – ten twenty two – blink – ten twenty three.


End file.
